


Nachdenklich

by Ariejul



Series: Alone in the Fallout [29]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Past Relationships, Unrequited Love, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariejul/pseuds/Ariejul
Summary: Nachdenklich: pensive; deeply, often wistfully, or dreamily thoughtful; melancholy thoughtfulnessJulia meets code name Rook, and her world is turned on its head.AU - divergent from the rest of the seriesPost-game, a few months after the destruction of the Institute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Here we have a new fic with Julia because I love her too much to let her go, I suppose? 
> 
> When I started Glas, I realized how much I love Barbara, and my head would not leave me alone with what if she was still alive. And of course, it was what would change if she was alive in Julia's world? How would it change? And because I love to torture my OCs, I had to write it. 
> 
> Also, just a note. This is the same Barbara as from Glas.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Comments/kudos are welcome, and I love them ever so much!

Walking down the stairs into HQ, Julia’s listening to some ridiculous story about the time Deacon had a pet mole rat when she notices something’s off. There’s a new face milling about, chatting up Desdemona like they’re old friends. Julia realizes suddenly Deacon’s gone quiet and glances toward him.

The expression on his face is one she’s never seen before, gentle and caring in a way that doesn’t look at all false, and it’s directed at the stranger. “Deacon, what is it?” she asks softly, and he snaps back with a slight head shake.

He grins in that over-the-top way that Julia knows instantly is a lie. His mouth opens, primed to tell some falsehood, but Dez cuts him off. “Charmer! There you are. Come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Julia walks over, perplexed, and she notes that Deacon doesn’t follow. Instead, he wanders off to a nearby chair, collapsing into it in such an overly dramatic way that she can’t help rolling her eyes. “What’s up, Dez?”

The new face beside Dez is a woman, older than Julia – though pegging down her actual age is nigh impossible – with dark curling hair twisted up at the base of her skull. There’s a smile on her face that at once puts Julia at ease, pulling her in. She steps forward before Dez can speak, taking Julia’s hand to shake it, a rarity for a Wastelander. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Julia blinks, startled. Is she supposed to know this woman? “Um… hi. I don’t mean to be rude, but… do I know you?”

She laughs, a warm inviting sort of sound. “Oh, I’m sorry. No. I’m certain Deacon’s told you about me, but knowing him he said I was dead. I’m Barbara, code name Rook. I’m his wife.”

The world spirals, tumbling under Julia’s feet. Barbara. Deacon’s dead wife. _Alive._ She whirls around toward the spy, who at least has the decency to look abashed. With a sigh, she turns back to the woman. “It’s… nice to meet you, and I’m certainly glad you aren’t dead.”

Barbara watches her with too keen eyes. Unlike Deacon, she doesn’t wear shades, but Julia gets the feeling she’s just as observant. “Come with me,” she says suddenly, hooking her arm through Julia’s. “Let’s go for a walk, kiddo. Get to know each other better.” She glances to Dez. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Deacon stands to follow, but Barbara’s hand shoots out and pushes him back down into the chair with a thud. “Girls only, love,” she tuts. “No boys allowed.”

Julia feels a smug sense of justification at the pout crossing his face before he disappears from view as they climb the stairs. She turns her focus back to the woman by her side and has no idea what to say. She’d believed every word Deacon had spoken that day, about his wife and the Deathclaws, but now… now, she isn’t sure what to believe.

Barbara doesn’t speak until they’re out of the catacombs and in the church proper. “What did he tell you about me?”

Julia frowns, pushing away the curl of disgust for the sorrow she felt for him, that shared pain of a lost spouse. A pain, it turns out, is purely her own. She feels so stupid. “All he really said was you met when he was a farmer, you married, and you were killed by the old gang he ran with for being a synth. That’s… it, really.”

She nods, lips dropping into a frown for the first time. Taking a seat on one of the battered pews, she pats beside her. Julia sits a moment later, feeling particularly uncomfortable. “Try not to hold it against him _too_ much. He does it to protect me. I _am_ a synth, after all.” She gives Julia a gentle smile of self-deprecation.

“Was the rest of it true, or just more of his lies?” Julia doesn’t quite succeed in keeping the bitterness from her tone.

“Did the Claws come for me, you mean?” She stares at her hands. “Yes, they did, and Deacon did run with them. The only lie he told you about me was my death. He trusts you. You know that, don’t you?”

Julia jerks at that, eyes wide. Honestly, she’d never been quite sure where she stood with Deacon.

Barbara laughs softly at her reaction, taking her hand and squeezing it. “He writes to me often, and even though we’ve never met, I feel like I know you. You’ve been a constant in his letters from the moment you met. I’ve never known him to speak so highly of _anyone,_ not in all the years we’ve been together _._ I’m certain you’ve noticed, but he’s… a difficult man to get close to. To understand.”

She nods to that. Deacon is an enigma. He’s her friend, certainly, but she doesn’t truly know what he’s thinking. Not really. It’s been a point of frustration for ages. All she wants is to be close to him, but whenever there's a breakthrough of intimacy, he pulls back, a constant game of tug of war.

“I don’t want this to spoil your friendship. I… worry about him. I always have. He doesn’t make friends easily, and most can’t get past his lies. But it seems you have. I just… thank you for taking care of him. He needs it.”

Julia snorts. “Yes, he does.”

Barbara smiles at that, and Julia returns it.

Wandering back into HQ, Deacon’s all but dancing with anticipation for their return. Julia slugs him in the shoulder as she walks past him. “You’re a big jerk, y’know that?”

He sticks out his tongue at her. “You love me anyway.”

That causes her to freeze, color rising up on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah,” she replies a beat too late, brushing the comment away. “Go see your wife, you big oaf.”

 

For the first time, Julia feels lost in the confines of HQ. When she’s here, Deacon is always by her side, keen to tell her some joke or make idle commentary. But now… She glances across the room with a sigh. Deacon and Barbara are sitting off in a corner alone, heads together, talking. Julia watches as his hand idly brushes against Barbara’s fingers, and she feels a surge of emotion deep in her chest.

Rubbing her face roughly, she stands and wanders into the back hallway where the escape tunnel used to be. Sleep is the furthest thing from her mind, but she can’t stand being in the common area for another moment. It’s impossible not to watch Deacon with his wife. At least here, she can’t see them at all.

Plopping down on a mattress tucked into the corner, loneliness washes over her in waves. She pulls her knees against her chest, resting her chin on top of them and tries not to think. Julia knows that jealousy is childish. Deacon isn’t _hers._ He isn’t, and never will be. That thought rolls uncomfortably in her gut. The knowledge of what that means – and her own unwillingness to face it – is a pressure point of acute agony. Julia wishes it wasn’t true.

“Stupid girl,” she murmurs under her breath, “He's a married man.”

Wetness leaks from the corners of her eyes, and she curls into herself more rolling onto her side facing the wall. She doesn’t bother stopping her tears, silently weeping until sleep claims her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia drifts and finds a bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! New chapter, woo!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Comments/kudos are always welcome and appreciated!

Waking reminds Julia why crying herself to sleep is a terrible idea. Her face feels puffy, and there’s an incessant pounding just behind her eyes not even a stim will ease. Digging in her pack, she pulls out the small mirror she keeps and confirms she looks as terrible as she feels. With eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, deep purple smudges underneath them, it will be a difficult task to hide the lingering traces of her sorrow. An impossible one if she runs into Deacon.

The mere thought of him causes her chest to seize tight, ribs a vice stealing her breath, and she closes her eyes with a frown. The ring hanging around her neck is cold comfort in her palm, gaze slipping toward the common room. Loneliness grips her, the ache for her husband’s familiar warmth nearly overwhelming. A warmth she will never feel again.

 _But_ his _love_ _isn’t dead._ _Not like yours._ _Too bad you aren’t lucky enough to have Nate back from the grave._ _Too bad you’ll never –_

Julia glances at the time on her Pip-Boy, shying away from such bitter thoughts, even as the sting of tears burn behind her eyes. The screen is too bright, but she’s relieved to see it’s still early, barely past four. Swiping at her eyes, she stands and begins organizing her pack for travel. Staying at HQ isn’t an option. The mere thought of it tangles deep in her chest, a gnarled bundle of emotion she dares not investigate further. Staying would be a torture she couldn’t endure. Frowning at her disheveled state, she quickly changes into a clean shirt and vest lined with ballistic weave.

It’s a long, dangerous road to Sanctuary, and she wants to be as prepared as possible. After all, her partner won’t be there to watch her back. Not this time. Julia sighs, brushing back a lock of hair behind her ear and shoulders her gear. The stock of her rifle thumps against her shoulder blade, the weight of it comforting in its normalcy. She huffs a laugh, thinking that Nate would be shocked if he could see her now. She’d barely look at a gun before, much less find comfort in one.

Walking into the common area, most are thankfully still asleep, and those that aren’t pay her no mind. Deacon is nowhere in sight, and the ratcheting pressure in her chest eases away. Julia doesn’t have the energy to deflect him this morning, all of it focused solely on keeping the crumbling facade of calm intact. Dez is up, already staring with determination at her map of the Commonwealth like a general positioning her armies. If nothing else, Julia admires the resolve. Dez is a good leader, and she cares. Probably more than she should. Julia certainly couldn’t do it. The Railroad’s leader – _Conductor Alpha,_ Deacon always used to joke (don’t _think about him)_ – smiles when she approaches.

“Charmer,” she greets, eyeing her with a concern Julia refuses to acknowledge.

“You ever sleep, Dez?” she asks, deflecting away the worry before it can be voiced. She pointedly doesn’t look for Deacon or his wife.

The older woman grins. “I could ask you the same. What can I do for you?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, she can’t manage to meet Dez’s gaze. “Listen, I’m taking a break. I haven’t… Shaun needs me, and I haven’t gotten to spend much time with him.”

Dez’s brows rise, but she nods quickly. “Of course. Take all the time you need. With Rook here, we have more than enough hands.” She hesitates before turning back to her map, gaze thoughtful.

Julia nods, swallowing back the lump trying to form in her throat. “If you… I’ll be heading to Bunker Hill before I swing toward home. Is there anything you need passed on?”

“If you wouldn’t mind letting Stockton know about our new agent, I’d appreciate it.” Her boss frowns a little, side-eyeing her as she pulls out and lights a cigarette. “I know we haven’t really gotten a chance to talk much since you’ve joined. Too much too do, too little time. But now…” Her eyes soften, and Julia thinks abruptly – _devastatingly –_ of her mother. “If you ever need a sympathetic ear, I’m here.”

Julia smiles, shifting anxiously on her feet. “Thanks. I really – I appreciate it.” She turns away, quelling the wetness pressing against her eyes. “I’m heading out. See ya around.”

“Stay safe, Charmer.”

Tears leak from the corners of her eyes as she enters the desolate catacombs, and Julia doesn’t dare try to stop them. A sob worms its way past her lips, echoing against the dark walls like a bullet’s ricochet. She staggers, stumbling to a stop, resting her forehead against the cool brick of a support column and allows herself a moment to find composure. She can’t fall apart on the road, not when she’s alone. She’s come too far – been through too much – to die now.

 _He doesn’t need you, stupid girl. Doesn’t_ want _you. Just let it_ go. _Please, just –_

 

The journey to Bunker Hill is a relatively quiet one. Sneaking past raider packs is old hat now, and as early as it is, most of them are asleep or lethargic enough not to notice her. Even so, she grips Deliverer tightly, anxiousness coiling down her spine. She catches herself turning to whisper to Deacon before remembering he isn’t there. Julia’s chest tightens, the errant wonder if he’ll ever be again weighing heavily on her mind. She’d taken for granted that he always would be. Her quick-witted guardian, as ever present as her shadow, gone as if he’d never been.

 _Stupid,_ stupid _girl._

Kessler greets her at the gate, a ready grin on her face as she wipes away the grime already clinging to it. “Hey there. Been a while.”

“Hey,” she greets, shifting her pack. The right strap’s been digging in for ages now, and her shoulder aches. “Everything going well?”

“No complaints. Joe and Tony just butchered a Brahmin, so fresh meat at the bar if you’re interested.”

Julia’s stomach rumbles at that; she left in such a rush she didn’t eat breakfast and decided not to stop along the way. “Thanks for the head’s up. I’ll see ya around.” Bunker Hill’s leader nods, returning to her work, and Julia wanders into the Market. Stockton is sitting at his desk, a sly smile on his face when she approaches.

“Ah, might you have a geiger counter?” he asks softly, eyeing the room for eavesdroppers.

“Y’know, mine’s in the shop,” Julia replies, dropping her pack wearily and rolling her aching shoulder. It’s going to be a long trip if she can’t remedy the issue with the strap.

“And what can I do for you today?”

Leaning in, Julia lowers her voice a bit. “Just a quick message from higher up. New blood, Rook, with the boss.”

Stockton’s brows raise slightly before he nods. “Very good. I’ll make a note of it. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. That’s it. If you need to send word back, you’ll have to use other channels. Not heading that way myself.” With another nod, Julia bids the old man farewell and heads toward the bar. Tony and Joe both greet her enthusiastically. The father and son have grown fond of her in the past year, especially after her help with the battle at Bunker Hill.

“If it ain’t my favorite customer! How’s it goin’?” Joe asks brightly as she sits down at the end of the bar.

Julia manages a grin, leaning her chin into an upturned palm. “Doing alright. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain! Got some fresh Brahmin. Want me to whip you up some?” With her nod, Joe pulls out a steak from the fridge and slaps it on the grill. The smell fills the area, and Julia can’t help how her mouth waters. He glances around with a frown. “Hey, you alone? Where’s the shady fellow that’s always with you?”

Julia’s appetite vanishes in the blink of an eye. Sighing, she pushes down the swirling mass writhing in her chest. “Yeah, just me. He had better things to do.”

Tony turns around, brow creased with concern. “That’s a shame. Can’t think of anything better than traveling the Commonwealth with you.”

Julia flushes at that, glancing away. “Yeah,” she mumbles softly, hands balling into fists. “Think I could get a Nuka Cola?”

Joe nods, sliding one toward her. It’s just the wrong side of cool, but Julia doesn’t care. It’s mostly to give her hands something to do. She doesn’t miss the scowl Joe shoots his son on her behalf. “Knock it off,” he growls.

The son frowns, shrugging. The pair continue to bicker, but the conversation is lost as Julia drifts into her own thoughts. Bunker Hill, even this early, is bustling with people, caravan hands and residents alike milling around. It’s a good place to disappear into the crowd, with the constant movement of the different caravans. At least for people that aren’t Julia. Everyone seems to know who she is, no matter where she goes. Even _raiders_ have taken notice. Taking a swig of her soda, Julia contemplates leaving the Commonwealth. Just… taking Shaun and going. The destination doesn’t matter much to her. She just wants to fade away, for people to forget they ever knew her.

Maybe Nate was the luckier one, she muses, fingers tracing the ring hanging from her neck.

Joe sets her plate of fresh meat in front of her, but her appetite hasn’t returned. A shame, honestly. Brahmin is her favorite, reminding her of food from before. Before. Sometimes she wishes more than anything to go back to that time, to her pretty new home with her sweet bear of a husband and new baby. To her mother and friends. To the life she’ll never have again. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t _this._

Anything but this… this _cold._

“Shame, letting good food like that go to waste,” a voice says just to her left, startling her.

Eyes darting over, she finds a man with a mop of dark hair and mischievous grin watching her keenly. For one breathless instant, she thinks he’s Deacon, but the thought is shaken away. He can’t be. Her lips twist with annoyance. “Don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The way he studies her crawls beneath her skin like an itch she can’t scratch before he shrugs. “Don’t suppose it is.”

Studying through narrowed eyes, she searches for a motivation, what reason a stranger might have for approaching her. And she hadn’t even _noticed._ Was she truly so distracted, or is he just that good? Her thoughts shift back to Deacon, the only person who can truly sneak up on her, before she pushes them away. “What do you want?”

He shifts in his seat awkwardly like a child, pulling the briefest grin to Julia’s lips. It’s such an… open gesture and a refreshing change from all the deception of the Railroad. “I just… wanted to thank you.”

Her fingers tighten around her drink bottle, grin disappearing like it never was. “For?” Of course she knows the answer. It’s always the same, and it eats away at her, this gratitude.

The man chuckles. “Getting rid of the Institute. It… well, it saved a lot of people.”

 _And destroyed so many more._ It’s an acerbic thought, clawing up from her chest, straining to escape, but she shoves it aside. Using the fringe of hair hanging in her face to camouflage her movement, she studies him. He’s young, possibly as young as herself, and handsome. He doesn’t look like a caravanner, or even a typical Waster. “I don’t need thanks. Anyone would have done what I did.”

He grins, and something in Julia’s chest catches. “Think you’re vastly overestimating most people. There’s a reason that place was a terror for over a century.”

Julia fights the urge to ask him if he’s Deacon wearing a new face, her expression twisting sourly as she sips her soda. She knows better than to think he is. She saw her partner just yesterday, and he wasn’t wearing this face. It’s a simple impossibility. _You’re losing it, seeing him in strangers._ “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m no hero.” Her voice cracks, and she silently curses at her own transparency.

His face drops. “If you say so.”

He orders his own meal, and Julia silently observes him eat. There’s an elegance to him, his movements graceful and fluid. She can’t help watching his hands, thinking of how they could belong to her Nate, but she doesn’t dare indulge that thought. This man isn’t him. Nate is gone, like everything else in her life.

She returns to her meal, mainly for the distraction, and manages to eat most of it before she can’t bear it a moment more. This man… whoever the hell he is… he’s upsetting, and fire flares deep in her chest. “Alright. That’s it. Who are you? Have we met?” _Why do I see everyone I’ve ever lost in you?_

He chuckles, a warm sound that seeps into her soul. “Name’s Will, and no, we haven’t met before. Your reputation precedes you.”

Of course it does. Everyone knows her name. Her smile is weak, passionless. A nicety without warmth. “I’m Julia. Though, I guess you probably knew that.” She glances away, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah,” he admits softly, sticking his hand out for a shake. “Still, it’s nice to meet you. I really am grateful for what you did.”

Shoving down her shock, she takes his hand and shakes it. His fingers are calloused and unbelievably warm. Like Deacon’s, Julia doesn’t think. “Nice to meet you, too, and please. You _don’t_ have to thank me.”

Conversation lulls as Julia stares at her hands. Joe clears away their dishes, and she absently thanks him. She idly notices Tony glaring over toward them, but it’s just too tiring to think about the reason why. Questions bubble in her mind; questions she dares not to ask. Questions she has no idea _how_ to ask.

“What brings you to Bunker Hill?” he questions, spinning his drink slowly in his palms. “Decided to take up the life of a caravanner?”

“No,” she laughs with a shake of her head. Her right shoulder still feels so stiff, the muscles complaining as she rolls it. The stool is suddenly too hard, and she contemplates just leaving his company. She should. No one in the Commonwealth is this friendly without purpose. It was probably the hardest lesson she had to learn. Still, it’s nice, pretending he’s beside her for the mere pleasure of her company. “Just wanted some fresh air, y’know. Get away for a while.”

He nods, his expression shifting thoughtfully. After traveling with Deacon for so long, it’s strangely refreshing to carry a conversation with someone she can so openly read.

“What about you?”

His lips quirk into a quicksilver grin, sipping his drink. Julia watches the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows before looking away, hoping he didn’t notice her ogling. “Been a long time since I’ve been in the Commonwealth. Just taking in the sights, I suppose you could say.”

Something in the phrasing catches her attention, the implication that his leaving wasn’t a choice. Her eyes dart across his face, searching for a sign that he might be one of their former charges, knowing all the while there is no way to tell from mere observation. She shakes her head at the own absurdness of her actions. She truly is off her game. “Did the Institute force you to leave?”

“Not really,” he answers somewhat hesitantly. “Dad just didn’t want Mom and me in the Commonwealth with all the chrome-domes wandering around unchecked, so we moved south to get away.”

Again, she finds herself studying him. Chrome-domes isn’t really a phrase she’s heard used for the early model synths outside of the Railroad. A synth is a synth to most people, doesn’t matter the type. _Could he have ties to the Railroad?_ Julia decides against asking directly. Too many ears listening, even now. She doesn’t want to put anyone at risk. She sweeps hair back from her eyes. “Glad to be back?”

Will shrugs at that, glancing around them. “I was too young to remember the Commonwealth, so yes and no. I’m glad Mom can be here with Dad, and it’s nice being able to have him around, but this is just another place to me. Not really home.”

A feeling Julia knows well. “Yeah, I definitely understand that.”

“Guess you would,” he finally murmurs, eyes kind. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

A melancholy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “It’s fine. Everything seems to.” Leaning forward, she flags down Tony. He wanders over, eyeing Will with thinly veiled contempt.

“Whatcha need?” he asks, leaning closer to her than strictly necessary.

Julia tries not to sigh. “Was lookin’ to rent a room for the night.”

“Ten caps, and it’s all yours.” Tony grins, his fingers brushing hers when she pays. Gathering up her pack, she smiles politely at Will. “It’s been nice chatting, but I’ve gotta be going. Have a good one, Will.”

He mirrors her expression, though with more warmth, and waves. “See ya around, Julia.”

She doesn’t look back at him, but the vague itch at the base of her neck is all she needs to know his eyes follow her all the way up to her room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting out of Bunker Hill proves quite the chore.

Julia frowns, knees pulled up against her chest as she watches the curtain hanging in the doorway to her room flap restlessly in the breeze. Renting a room and charging into it just to escape the captivating stranger at the bar had been _stupid._ Now she has the rest of the day to spend alone with her thoughts.

And those traitorous thoughts keep slipping back to her absent partner.

That Barbara is very much alive still leaves her gobsmacked. Certainly, she’s glad that the woman isn’t dead. She would _never_ wish the loss of a spouse – or truly any loved one – on her worst enemy, but still… _It hurts._

She thought that acute pain shared had bonded her with Deacon, that he _understood_ and _grieved_ as she did. That lie – and the seeming lack of guilt over it – hurts more than any other he’s told. He may as well have ripped her heart out with his bare hands. Julia had believed that lie, drank it up, and now it sits inside her eating away at her heart like poison. It opens the floodgates of doubt, and she can’t sort truth from lie. What else has he hidden? What other lies has he weaved?

Does she truly know him at all?

The sharp ache of sorrow burns her eyes, and she desperately tries to swipe it away. She’s stronger than this. Getting worked up over a liar deceiving her is stupid and pointless. She should _know_ better than naively believing he found her special enough to open up like she might save him. She couldn’t even save her own son, much less a man whose very being is built on a foundation of fiction.

She can almost hear Nate chastising her for needing a man like Deacon, and the sudden longing to hear her husband’s voice is all-consuming.

Fumbling in her pack, she pulls a worn holotape out and stuffs it in her Pip-Boy. Nate’s voice fills the space, and Julia rests her forehead against her knees and listens to the family she lost as she shakes among the remains. Her breath only hitches when Nate says goodbye, and wet clings to her cheeks long after the tape has gone silent.

Blindly fingering at the screen of her Pip-Boy, she sighs wearily. “I miss you,” she murmurs to the echoes of memory, wishing more than anything she could reach through time and have Nate hold her one last time. He would know what to do.

 

As day fades, sleep proves elusive, with Julia spending most of the night tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress. When she finally manages to slip into unconsciousness, her dreams are haunted by the ghosts of her past. Nate smiling with a bullet wound weeping red. Shaun, hair white and face wrinkled, cursing her existence as the world burns. Deacon, grinning among the ashes with lies dancing across his tongue. The young stranger from the bar smiling, pain in his eyes as he calls her name.

She starts awake, the sun barely peeking between the skeletal remains of Boston. Abandoning the idea of returning to her bed, Julia prepares for her departure. The open road looms ahead, desolate and lonely, pressing down upon her, but there’s no point worrying. Alone is what she wanted. Alone is what she is.

Pushing the ragged curtain aside, she steps out into the cool dawn air. Bunker Hill is still in the throws of waking, but that suits her well enough. There isn’t anyone here she wants to wish farewell.

Thoughts flicker to the stranger – Will – from yesterday, but Julia firmly pushes them aside. She has no room in her life for such pleasantry, even in the form of a well meaning stranger. Especially when Will overlaps with so many important people in her mind. She doubts he’s even still in the trade hub; he seemed keen on seeing as much of the Commonwealth as he could. It wouldn’t make sense wasting a day in Bunker Hill.

Sadness worms its way into her heart at the thought, but Julia tries not to think about it.

“Morning,” a voice murmurs tiredly from behind, causing Julia to jump. Will is standing there, clearly just out of bed himself. His hair is tousled, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. There’s a small pack at his feet; clearly he’s headed out as well. He ruffles his hair sleepily and smiles at her, and something in Julia’s chest hitches. It seems he didn’t leave, after all.

She blinks against the sudden rush of hot behind her eyes. “Oh, morning,” she replies tersely, turning away under the guise of stretching. The previous night’s dreams linger in her thoughts, resisting her every effort to forget them.

Julia’s annoyed with herself, acting like some lovesick teenager with a _stranger,_ and wants nothing more than to be away from him. She clearly isn’t thinking straight. She marches down the stairs without another word.

“You heading out?” Will follows her down, clearly not taking the hint.

Julia answers with a curt nod, the manners her parents instilled in her breaking through the want to be rid of him. It isn’t Will’s fault that she’s projecting her anguish on him. Her pack digs in sharply, and she huffs in aggravation, shifting it roughly. The bothersome strap had gone neglected yesterday, and she’s already regretting it.

“Your bag bothering you?”

She exhales sharply through her nose and whirls back to tell him off but stops dead. Her nose is inches from his chest, and that is _too close._ She can’t breathe. “I… it’s…”

“Whoa, sorry,” he says, taking a step back, and Julia feels the vice on her chest ease.

Swallowing roughly, she nods. She dare not trust her voice now.

He apologetically smiles, holding out his hand. “Can I see?”

Cutting her eyes suspiciously toward him, she grips her bag tighter. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, fix it for you?” There’s a hint of confusion in his voice, and amusement. Julia grimaces, hearing Deacon in the words and wants to slap herself for it.

“Here.” With a sigh, she all but tosses the bag at him.

He grunts at the force of it but goes to work quickly, kneeling to examine it. After a cursory examination, he glances up at her. Hair falls slightly into his eyes, prompting a toss of his head to shake it away. “Which strap?”

Julia blinks, momentarily at a loss for words. “Um, it’s… the right,” she murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear and avoiding his eyes. She hates the way he throws her and how she almost enjoys it. Hates the way she sees Deacon and Nate when she looks at him, and that it would be so easy just to let herself fall into that bittersweet warmth.

In a few minutes, Will’s passing her bag back. “There,” a satisfied grin breaking his face as he dusts off his hands. “It shouldn’t bother you anymore. Just lemme know if it does, and I’ll fix it again.”

She decides not to mention they’ll be going their separate ways in a few minutes. Shouldering her bag and testing it does prove he indeed fixed it. “Um, thanks.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” he says, and the warmth of his voice spills into the early morning cool like a pleasant crackling fire.

If she doesn’t get away from him, she’s going to be in trouble.

Without another word, Julia spins on her heels and marches toward the gate. She ignores everything around her, focusing solely on her exit. She doesn’t care if he’s following. She can lose him in the ruins. It’s still dark enough for that, at the least. Guilt sits heavily in her gut, but she doesn’t care.

She’s nearly to the gate before Will addresses her again. “Uh, hey. Where are you headed?”

Julia grits her teeth. “Why do you care?”

If he notices her ire, he’s ignoring it marvelously. Much like Deacon would. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe I’m worried about you traveling alone?”

Clenching her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath that does little for her mood. “I can take care of myself,” she snaps.

“Easy there, Tiger. I didn’t think you couldn’t. Just in my experience, it’s safer traveling with a buddy than alone.”

_Don’t look at him. Just keep walking. Don’t look at him. Don’t –_

Julia turns to face him with a scowl. “Look. No offense, but I don’t want company.”

The kicked puppy expression he gives her nearly breaks any resolve she has. “Julia, I… uh,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. I’m not trying to. But to be perfectly honest, you’re in no state to be alone out there if Boston is half as dangerous as I’ve been told.” There’s a sharpness in his gaze when he finally meets her eyes, and she suddenly feels exposed. Like he can see everything she is and ever will be.

This man, without a doubt, is dangerous.

“He’s right about that,” Kessler says, walking up to them. “Been a spike in raider activity in the area. Having a hard time keeping the caravans safe.”

Julia suppresses a groan. She knows Kessler well enough to see where this is going. Turning toward the settlement leader just confirms it. There’s a caravan getting ready to leave from the direction she came, and it looks noticeably lean on guards.

“You’re heading toward home, aren’t you?”

Eyeing Kessler, Julia nods. “That’s the plan.”

“Caravan got hit hard on the way in. Managed to keep the raiders clear of the goods, but the guards took a hell of a beating. I can’t afford to have merchandise just sitting around until they get cleared for duty. Think I could get you to escort them since you’re heading that way?” She glances just behind Julia, to where Will is standing. “You, too. Need all the hands I can get.”

Julia hesitates. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to help. She just doesn’t feel comfortable having a walking, breathing reminder of why she’s running home following her there. For all that he acts like just some friendly guy that’s grateful for her good deeds, Will sees too much – _k_ _nows_ too much – and Julia can’t have him ferreting out her secrets.

As far as she’s concerned, he’s already seen more than he should.

“Look, it’ll be safer traveling in a group, and I’ll pay you for the trouble,” Kessler adds, noticing her reticence.

“I won’t be heading back this way,” she warns the settlement leader. Julia has no intentions of darkening this part of the Commonwealth for quite a long while.

Kessler waves the concern away. “There’s no need. I can have replacements for the return trip.”

She rubs her forehead wearily. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Will hasn’t responded. Tossing up her hand, Julia agrees. “Why the hell not. I can do it.”

A beat later, Will speaks. “Never been a caravan guard, but sure.” There’s a careless sort of mirth to his voice, like he’s discussing the weather instead of agreeing to a job that could get him killed. Something about that unsettles Julia, but she brushes it aside.

The relieved grin plastered on the older woman’s face is worth all the annoyance traveling with the caravan – and Will – is going to be. “I appreciate it, you two. Really got me out of a jam. You’ll be hitting up Covenant, Starlight, and Drumlin Diner. I don’t expect you to hang around for more than that. I’ll let them know you’re heading out with them. Thanks again.”

With that, Kessler is gone, and Julia suddenly has nowhere to run. She swallows heavily, gripping the strap of her backpack. She can do this. All she has to do is survive and make it back to Sanctuary. Shaun is there waiting, and all this will be behind her. No more Railroad _._ No more Deacon. No more Will. She can take Shaun and go wherever she wants. Do whatever she wants.

She isn’t sure why it hurts to be so free.

“You okay over there?”

Will’s voice snaps her back, and she glares at him. “I’m _fine._ ” She sighs then, forcing her shoulders to relax a little. “Listen, I’m not much in the mood for conversation. It’s nothing personal.”

He’s silent for a while, and Julia just feels so tired of it all. “I get it. I’ll back off.” When she looks at him, his eyes are hooded, and perhaps a bit haunted. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“If I promise to do that, will you just go… over there?” She gestures vaguely away from her.

He salutes, though she isn’t looking. “Yes, ma’am.”

Julia grimaces, a slow ache beginning to grow behind her eyes. “And don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ Makes me feel old.”

Huffing a laugh, he nods. “Sure thing.”

Julia’s blood ices over at those simple words. Her gaze dances across his features, her brow furrowed as she studies him. How many times has Deacon said that exact phrase?

Will shifts on his feet, clearly anxious at her sudden attention. “What?” His voice is sharp like the edge of a knife, and Julia shakes away her thoughts.

_Get a fucking grip._

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She frowns in thought, absently wandering away from him.

True to his word, Will doesn’t follow, but she can feel his eyes on her. Somehow, that’s worse.


	4. Author's Note

Hey guys. Sorry if you were expecting this update to be a new chapter, but I wanted to let everyone know what's going on with me right now. All of my WIPs are on a bit of a hiatus right now. I want to take some time to actually sit down and plan out everything that's going to happen in all of them before I continue on. I just want to ask y'all to be patient with me while I do this. 

These are NOT abandoned by any means. I just want to make sure I can give y'all the best story that I can.

Thanks for all your support. It means the world to me. <3


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